Casablanca Dreaming
by MaryRoyale
Summary: A fun mélange of Cabaret, Casablanca, and Glee! It seemed like a good idea at the time... Finchel  cuz of the angst  M for the subject matter- Nazi Germany, mention of the holocaust, Kristallnacht, etc.
1. Introduction Entering the Dream

"Hey, dude, what is *wrong* with you?" Finn looked up into Puck's angry face.

"What?"

"Dude, are you *hung over*? Before the game?" Puck sounded seriously pissed off. It was one thing to have a good time but NOT when it involved a game.

"No! No, dude, Kurt made me stay up and watch a bunch of movies. He was trying to 'educate' me."

"Oh yeah? Anything good?"

"Nah. Just a bunch of chick flicks." Finn was not about to tell Puck that he had actually been interested in seeing the film version of Cabaret, the play *she* was supposed to be in last year. Casablanca had been kind of good too. Again, not something he was going to share with Puck.

"Well, dude, get your head in the game."

"Yeah."

Everything happened in slow-motion, as though it were some sort of dream. The ball was passed to Finn, who dribbled while he looked for someone who was open, and threw with all his might to Puck. Then he crashed to the ground. A player from the other team landed on top of him-his head hit the floor. Stars seemed to be dancing in front of his eyes. Stars always made him think of *her*, which made him think of the conversation he'd had earlier that year with *her* about him being kicked off the football team.

"I'm actually kind of happy about it. Then I don't have to fantasize about what song I'd sing at your bedside if you were in a coma."

At least in football he had a damn helmet. The stars were leaving, which made him sort of sad for some reason. Then there was nothing but velvety blackness.


	2. An American in Paris

There was smoky haze in the cabaret that night. Mercedes and Rachel sat at their usual table eating late suppers. They'd finished singing their sets at their respective clubs earlier, but had wanted to see Kurt's new act. Mercedes nudged Rachel in the side, and nodded toward a tiny table of men dressed in soldiers' uniforms. One of them, dressed in civilian clothes, looked incredibly uncomfortable. He must have had no idea what a cabaret was or he never would have come in. Rachel decided to take pity on him. She stood up and glided over to them

"Bonsoir. Je peux asseoir ici, a cote de vous?" The tall handsome man with beautiful hazel eyes looked at her in confusion.  
"Um, what?" Rachel laughed a throaty, rich sound that made the soldiers turn and look at her.  
"I asked if I might sit next to you. You are Americans, yes?"  
"He is, love. The rest of us are English." The handsome soldier winked and flashed her a grin.  
"You are all of you very naughty boys to drag this poor _naïf_ into a cabaret." She shook her finger at all of them, and then turned her electric smile on the American. He smiled back, but the confusion was still there.  
"This is a cabaret? I thought it was a nightclub."  
"Oh, no cher. All of the nightclubs are closed. My friend Mercedes and I sing in two of the best in all Paris. Cabarets stay open later, and they cater to a slightly different clientele." The American shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  
"I kind of noticed that. Are those all guys?"  
"Men, women, who knows? That is the fun of the cabaret. You are very lucky you know," she confided to him in a husky voice, one hand on his sleeve. He stared at her gloved hand and then looked into her dark eyes, and found himself drowning.  
"Why is that?"  
"Mon amie, Kurt, is premiering a new act tonight. He is going to be singing 'Je ne regrets de rien'. It means I regret nothing. Oh look, here!"  
An incredibly lovely looking woman walked up to the microphone and began to sing. Her voice was incredible, almost unearthly. What was even more incredible was the breathy voice in his ear, translating the lyrics for him. Her lips accidently brushed against his ear several times. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  
"That's...that's Kurt?" He murmured, his brows drawn together.  
"But of course. No one can sing like our Kurt. He is amazing."  
"_Our_ Kurt?"  
"Mercedes and I live with Kurt, he's our roommate." He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.  
"Oh. That's nice."  
"Bien sur. Especially when it is time to pay the rent, no?" She flashed another one of those electric smiles at him. "Would you like to meet Kurt?"  
"Um, sure?"  
"Kurt! Kurt, cher!" She waved energetically to get the singer's attention. He walked over, carrying a huge bouquet of roses from an admirer. "Ooh la la! Henri?" Kurt had a smug smile. He nodded.  
"This is Kurt Hummel, the second greatest singer in Paris," Rachel said with a sly wink to the handsome American. He carefully shook Kurt's hand. He felt like maybe he was supposed to kiss the back of his hand, but he didn't feel comfortable enough to do that. Kurt made a moue of displeasure at Rachel over the "second greatest singer" remark.  
"And who is this handsome boy, Rachel?" Rachel's eyes widened in surprise.  
"Oh zut alors! You know, I forgot to ask. What is your name, cher?"

He cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, Finn. Finn Hudson."

"Finn." Her sloe-eyed gaze ensnared him and he felt himself drowning again. The way she said his name was like a caress. He could feel it like an electric charge on his skin.

"Um, I don't know your name either." Those chocolate eyes widened in surprise.

"Where is my head tonight?" She laughed

"I bet I know." muttered Kurt to Mercedes. He was immediately shushed by both women.

"I'm Rachel Bere-...," she paused, looked at Kurt for a second and then looked at Finn. "Rachel Berry. And this of course, is Miss Mercedes Jones. She too, is an American."

Finn bowed to Mercedes and kissed the back of her hand. Mercedes eyes widened in surprise. What was acceptable in Paris in 1939 was still capable of getting a person beaten or murdered in the States. Mercedes decided that maybe this boy might be a keeper. She looked over at Rachel and nodded almost imperceptibly. Rachel smiled back.

Two androgynous looking people walked up to their group. Both figures were wearing tuxedos, and had their hair combed back. Finn realized with a start that they were women.

"Kurt, darling, we're throwing a party tonight. You can bring your friends if you want." The dark-haired woman leered at both Finn and Rachel. The blond slid her arm around the brunette.

"Sure, Santana, but if Henri comes, keep your paws off!

Of course, darling." Her smile was wicked, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to come along, Finn?" Rachel had her head cocked to one side, a slight smile curving her lips. Finn was torn. He was frankly scared of what kind of party that Santana woman might throw, but he didn't want to leave the presence of this beautiful brunette, either.

"It sounds interesting..." Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel all laughed at that.

"Santana *always* throws an interesting party. You should come; you might never see anything like it ever again." Kurt offered while he fussed with his roses. That was what Finn was afraid of.

"Okay. Let's go."

Finn woke up the next day in his own bed. He had no idea how he got there, but he was there. He searched his pockets and found a card for a nightclub with something written elegantly in French on the back. He knew it was from Rachel. He couldn't wait to see her again, but he knew a bath and clean clothes had to enter in somewhere.

That evening he stood on the steps of the club debating with himself; should he go in? Should he just go back to his apartment? Finally, he turned and entered the club. When the maître d' spoke to him in French, he shook his head and handed the card over. The maître d' flipped the card over. His eyes widened and he looked at Finn in a very respectful manner.

"Ah! Madame Rachel. Come this way, sir. Follow me." He seated Finn at an excellent table down front where he could see all of the entertainment. "Madame Rachel, she is our star. She will be on later. Would you like dinner? A drink?"

Finn shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was obviously a really swanky joint and he wasn't sure he could afford anything on their menu. The maître d' correctly interpreted Finn's discomfort.

"Do not worry, monsieur. A friend of Madame Rachel's need not fret about such crass things as money. Whatever you want, monsieur. It is taken care of."

"Oh." Finn had never been in a situation like this before. What was the polite thing to do? "What's your special?"

The maître d' crooked his finger and immediately there was a waiter at his side.

"Monsieur would like to hear the specials. Anything he wants, Emile. He is a friend of Madame Rachel." The waiter's eyes betrayed surprise only briefly, but then his professionalism took over, and then he turned his attention to his client.

Finn ate a perfectly prepared, delicious dinner, and drank the wine that Emile had suggested for the different courses. He felt full, relaxed, and mellow. The lights dimmed and a gentleman stepped out to the microphone on the stage. He spoke smoothly in French so Finn understood nothing until he heard "Madame Rachel" and saw her glide out onto the stage. She wore an incredible gown like the kind movie stars wore. Her beautiful hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon.

She opened her mouth to sing and he felt something, in his chest; the world seemed to tilt around him, and he knew it would never be the same again. For good or ill, this tiny brunette was rapidly becoming extremely important to him. He didn't understand any of the words, but he knew she'd translate it for him later.

After the first song, she launched into Cole Porter's "Do I Love You?" and it seemed as though she were singing to him and him alone. She sang several songs, many of them in French so he had no idea what they meant. Her voice was incredible. She put so much emotion into her songs.

Finn was captivated. When she came to sit with him he blurted out, "You were amazing!" She laughed and squeezed his arm.

"Thank you, Finn."

The days seemed to pass in a whirlwind. He spent as much time as he could with Rachel, and by extension, with Kurt and Mercedes. He became a frequent guest in their tiny apartment. He knew he was falling hard for the beautiful singer, but he also felt that this was too much, too fast. It was crazy. Yet every time he looked into her eyes there was nowhere else he wanted to be.


	3. Interlude The Hospital

Interlude- The Hospital

Everyone was crowded into the waiting room. No one noticed Rachel slip in quietly and hang back in the corner. She listened to everything everyone said. She had no right to be there. She was sure *he* wouldn't want her there. He'd probably tell her she was being 'too clingy'. She had no choice, she couldn't stay away—it was like a compulsion. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched Carole, Finn's Mom, cry into Mr. Hummel's shoulder. (It was weird to think of her as Mrs. Hummel because she had always been Mrs. Hudson.) Mr. Hummel patted Carole's shoulder and looked helplessly at Kurt. The Glee kids, the basketball team, and the Cheerios were all gathered in little clusters around the room. Rachel stood separate from all them in self-imposed isolation. She looked at the toes of her shoes and practiced breathing exercises to calm herself down.

A doctor came out and took the Hummels into Finn's room. Every minute they were gone was agonizing. When they came out, they looked worried and tense. Kurt held up his hand and everyone grew silent.

"Hey guys, thanks for coming. The doctor says it's a coma and he might come out of it at anytime. We just need to be patient. It's getting late though, and the doctor says no visitors, tonight—just family. You can come back tomorrow, though."

There was a roaring sound in Rachel's ears. She stood in the corner in shock, unable to move. He was in a _coma_?

Kurt noticed Rachel sitting in the waiting room the next day. She was sitting in a corner, half turned away from the rest of the room.

"Rachel?" She turned to look at him and gave him a falsely bright smile.

"Kurt. Is, um, Mrs. Hummel okay?"

"Mom is trying to be brave, but Finn was her world for a really long time, you know?"

"I can imagine." Kurt really looked at Rachel for a moment. She looked fragile, delicate.

"Do you want to see him? I can take you in, if you want."

"No. He wouldn't want that. I just, I came to see, I wanted to make sure…" she trailed off helplessly. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry." She ran out of the waiting room.

Kurt sighed.


	4. La Vie en Rose

La Vie en Rose

Finn had been seeing Rachel for several months. They spent their days exploring Paris together, and their nights in the clubs and cabarets of the City of Lights. Rachel loved showing him Paris. He loved being in her company. In fact, he loved her. He hadn't quite figured out how to tell her, but he wanted to.

He took Rachel home to her apartment one night, and they found it dark and empty.

"Where are Mercedes and Kurt?" Rachel smiled at him. It was her 'Finn doesn't quite get it' smile. He never minded that smile because it wasn't condescending, snarky, or mean. It was sort of fond, loving, and amused.

"They're not coming home tonight," she murmured as she slid her arms around his neck to pull his lips closer to hers. He pulled back to look at her.

"What do you mean?" Rachel sighed.

"I mean Mercedes and Kurt are staying at Santana and Brittany's apartment tonight."

"You're going to be here all by yourself?" Finn worried about Rachel being alone in Paris. Things could happen in the city.

"Well, if you're worried, you could stay with me, and make sure I'm safe." Finn frowned at her.

"Rachel, what exactly are you asking me?"

"Stay with me tonight, Finn," she breathed. Finn's eyes widened. She smiled at him and slid her arms around his neck again. He gathered her close to him and kissed her back. His lips moved over her jaw and down her throat. He breathed in her scent, which was a heady mix of vanilla and jasmine. He carried her into her bedroom, and reverently laid her on her bed. She still had her arms around his neck and was actively kissing him back. She pulled back for a moment and smiled at him.

"I'm going to go change. Wait right here." She stood up and then turned around. She smiled at him over her shoulder. He understood her silent request, and unzipped the ornate gown she wore for her performance at the nightclub. When she came back in the room minutes later, her silky hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing a gold silk robe that flattered her complexion. He was sitting on her bed, and she slid into his lap.

Finn trailed kisses across her collarbone. He loosened the robe to bare one of her shoulders, and realized that she wasn't wearing anything under the robe. He sucked in his breath and stared at her in awe.

"Rachel, are you sure about this?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my whole life."

"I love you." He blurted it out, and could feel his ears turn red.

"I know," she smiled at him again, "I love you, too."

Finn lay there in the bed with her in his arms, and he could not believe how lucky he was. He couldn't sleep. He just held her all night: stroking her hair, kissing her shoulder, breathing in her scent. She snuggled up against him and sighed in her sleep, "Finn." He could feel himself grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't stop smiling.

Kurt and Mercedes accepted Finn's almost constant presence with charm and aplomb. After that night, Finn slept in Rachel's bed every night. He came to see her in the nightclub as often as he was able. Sometimes they would go and see Mercedes sing, and sometimes they would go to the cabaret. Finn started to enjoy the cabaret. He realized that the cabaret was the only space for people like Kurt, Santana, and Brittany to be themselves. He also realized they deserved somewhere to be themselves.

"There are people here from everywhere, aren't there?" He was sitting at a table with Mercedes and Rachel. Mercedes thought for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess so. You and I are Americans. Santana's from Spain. Brittany's from Denmark. Kurt and Rachel…" she trailed off without completing the thought. Rachel laughed.

"Yes, here we have all the world! Oh look, Brittany and Santana are on!"

Rachel was in a weird mood for the rest of the night. Finn wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but he knew something was bothering her. When they left the cabaret she grew silent and stared off into the distance. Finn was starting to worry. What was wrong? Had he said something? Done something to bother her?

That night, she clung to him, and made love to him almost desperately. He fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be woken by her screams.

"Nein! Nein! Papa! Papa!" Sobs racked her tiny frame. The lights flipped on and Kurt was in the room. He hurried to the bed, and started stroking Rachel's back. He spoke soothingly to her in German. She curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Eventually, she stopped sobbing, and she was taking shuddering breaths. She looked up at Kurt. She sat up and hugged him. He hugged her back.

"Okay, now?" She peeked at Finn out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not sure." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?" Finn looked back and forth between them. He had always known that there was some kind of weird connection between Kurt and Rachel. He knew it wasn't sexual, but there was something there. There was a special bond between them. He spoke up.

"Please Kurt, stay for a minute. I think Rachel needs you to be here." Kurt nodded.

"Do you want me to start?" He looked expectantly at Rachel who nodded while she stared at her hands.

"Yes," she whispered.

"What do you know about the current political climate in Germany?" Kurt demanded of Finn. He shrugged and spread his hands helplessly.

"The Nazi party does not care for a number of groups," Kurt said hollowly, "among which are gays," he gestured to himself, "and Jews." His eyes slid to Rachel.

"My name is not Rachel Berry," she whispered, "it's Rachel Bernstein." She wouldn't look at Finn. Kurt took up the narrative again.

"The Nazis decided to show how much they hated the Jews with…with Kristalnacht." Kurt went on to describe the events of Kristalnacht in a toneless voice. Rachel twisted the sheet between her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They destroyed businesses, homes, synagogues. They beat people in the streets, some died. They rounded up Jewish men and took them away. They never came back."

What could he say to that? That it was awful? Horrifying? They already knew that.

"I'm sorry." Kurt shrugged.

"We made it out. We were lucky." Rachel nodded in agreement.

"Rachel, baby, look at me." Rachel raised her eyes hesitantly. "I love you. I don't care what your last name is. I don't care about any of that. I care about you, and what's important to you."

She allowed him to pull her into his lap and cuddle her against his chest. Kurt smiled at them and kissed Rachel on the forehead.

"Good night you two."

He gently rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair, rubbing the small of her back in small circles. Eventually, he got her to go back to sleep. That night changed the dynamic of their relationship. After that, Finn felt like he had seen a very precious piece of what made Rachel who she was.


	5. Second Interlude Hospital

Interlude- Seeing Finn

Despite what anyone might or might not say—including _him_-Rachel decided to return to the hospital the next day. She sat in the corner again. She watched his basketball team mates; the Cheerios and their fellow glee clubbers visit him in small groups of two or three people at a time. She watched his mother and step-brother go in and sit with him.

She shouldn't be here. She had no right to be here. She stood up to leave and bumped into Quinn.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't see you." Quinn shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, Rachel, will you do me a favor? Will you come in and sit with me? I don't want to go by myself." The blond confided quietly. Rachel's heart was pounding so loudly in her chest she thought Quinn must be able to hear it.

"Yes, of course."

She sat there in Finn's room with Quinn, who held his hand and stroked his cheek. Rachel stared at her hands clenched in her lap. She shouldn't be here. She should be anywhere but here. Quinn sat down next to Rachel and took her hand. They sat there, holding hands and staring at the man they both cared for until Kurt poked his head into the room. He stared at them both for a moment and then cleared his throat.

"Quinn, Rachel? The doctors need to run some tests."

Both women stood and left the room. They didn't look at Kurt or at each other.

Rachel left the hospital and went home.


	6. We'll Always have Paris

Paris, May 1940

Rachel clung to Finn, her face pressed against his chest.

"Honestly, Rachel, I will come back. I promise." She seemed to cling even tighter—if that were possible. He looked helplessly at Kurt, who gave him a sad smile.

"That's what her father promised. When they took him away…" Kurt couldn't finish the sentence. Finn swallowed and closed his eyes. He knew that Kurt and Rachel had been through so much. He knew they'd seen things that would've broken other people. He hugged Rachel to him so tightly she squeaked.

"Look at me." Her chocolate eyes were swimming with tears. He cupped her face between his large hands and gave her a lopsided smile. "I will see you again."

"Oh, Finn." She started to laugh, but ended up hiccupping. He kissed her forehead and walked out the apartment door.

Lima, Ohio, June 1940

"Finn, honey! Breakfast is ready!" Carole Hudson called up the stairs to her son.

"Coming mom!" Finn looked at the diamond engagement ring one last time, nestled in its velvet box. He closed it, and headed down the stairs taking them two at a time and whistling. Carole smiled to herself. Finn seemed so happy since he'd come home from Europe. She couldn't wait to meet the woman responsible for her son's happiness. Finn couldn't stop talking about her. The newspaper landed with a resounding thunk on the front porch.

"I'll get it, mom."

Carole heard the screen door open, but Finn never came back to the kitchen. She went out to the porch to see what was taking so long. Finn stood there, still as a statue, staring at the newspaper. His face was ashen grey.

"Finn? Finn, honey, what's wrong?" He handed her the paper. Emblazoned across the front page the headlines screamed: _Nazis invade France, Paris falls_! "Oh dear God!"

Carole took her son's nerveless hand in hers and led him back in the house. He sat on the couch in the living room and stared at the wall. _He'd promised her that he'd return. He'd promised he would come back._ His mind raced frantically through the possible reactions Rachel must have had to the Nazi invasion of France. His blood ran cold when he thought about Nazis finding Rachel and Kurt. _She was always so terrified of them. She must be hysterical. _Finn tried not to think of the one thing that truly scared him. _Rachel is a Jew and the Nazis have invaded France._ He had to trust that Kurt would keep his head, and find a way to get them out of France alive. It was funny to think that he used to be uncomfortable around Kurt. He could not imagine a world without Kurt in it. A world without *her*. His heart constricted in his chest.

Carole stood and watched her son. He seemed completely blank, his eyes staring at something she couldn't see. She watched his jaw tighten. She knew her son. His heart was breaking right in front of her and there was nothing she could do. She went and sat down next to him on the couch. She took one of his big hands in between hers. She gently stroked his hand.

"She was in France, then?"

"Paris," he whispered through numb lips.

"A French girl?" Carole tried to keep her voice calm and soothing.

"No…a Jewish refugee from Germany. She escaped after Kristallnacht."

"Oh, Finn. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

Finn didn't say anything else for the rest of the day. He just sat on the couch and stared at the wall. Carole left him alone. She figured he needed space.

In the morning, there was a note on the kitchen table.

_Dear Mom,_

_I have to go back. Please don't be mad, mom. I have to do this. I love her._

_-Finn_

"Good luck, Finn." She whispered to the kitchen.

Morocco, 1942

Finn would always remember the first time he heard *her* voice come out of the radio. After so much searching, so many nights spent wondering if she was even alive; to hear her beautiful voice come out of his radio was incredible. He started crying, right there behind the bar. Thank God it was before the bar opened, and there was no one else to see him. She was singing "I'll see you in my dreams", and he knew she was singing to him. Most of the songs she sang were for him. "We'll Meet Again" was one that always made him go search in the backroom for something, anything.

He always knew she was special, but this was beyond anything he'd ever thought possible. She was on Armed Forces Radio, singing for the troops. He knew how important work like hers was for the war effort. The soldiers needed people like her to comfort them, encourage them, and be there in the night when they were thousands of miles away from their sweethearts.

Living in Morocco had vastly improved his French, so he even understood those songs now. He now knew that the first song he'd ever heard her sing was called "J'attendrai" (I will wait). She sang it a lot now, on the radio. It always made the Vichy soldiers in his bar tear up.

It was torture, knowing she was alive—hearing her voice all the time on the radio—and not being able to do anything about it. Besides, he reasoned with himself, how could he take her away from all the important work she was doing? What she was doing, it was necessary. It had to be done. How could he ask her to stop doing it?

That magical spring in Paris seemed almost unreal. Did he dream it? The two of them laughing and drinking wine in cafés while it rained outside; running through the rain from the boulangerie to the apartment; making love while the rain beat against the roof. Finn automatically pushed that thought away. He never let himself think about the silkiness of her hair in his fingers. He never thought about the feel of her tiny hands on his body, her lips against his skin.

She wasn't his anymore. She belonged to the world now, she was a star. Finn felt that she was so far removed from him—that there was no way to cross that distance between them. He would always love her. He would always be her biggest fan, but he had no place in her life.

"Hey boss, there's someone here that wants to speak to you." Finn looked up at his bouncer who was shorter than he was, but well-muscled with an air of intimidation about him.

"Yeah, Puck. I'll be there in a minute. Is Sam here yet?"

"Yeah, he's here."

"Good."

Finn went out to the floor of his place, to see the local Vichy representative cooling her heels.

"Frau Sylvester. How can I help you?" She gave him a tight lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I've had complaints that you've been playing the Armed Forces Radio again, Finn." Crap. He was such a sucker for the damn Vichy soldiers who wanted to hear the singers.

"Look, Frau Sylvester, they beg me. What am I supposed to do, tell 'em no?"

"Yes, Finn. That's exactly what I expect you to do. You have Sam. Have him play the piano. That's what you pay him for, yes?"

Finn shrugged.

"As you command, Frau Sylvester." She nodded, once, turned on her heel and left. Damn! Finn punched the solid wood bar.

"Great idea, boss. Break your hand. Brilliant." Puck handed him a bar towel with ice in it. Finn wrapped it around his hand.

"Where's Sam?"

"Over there." Puck waved toward the small stage where the bar's piano stood. Finn walked over to the blond piano man, who sat stretching his fingers and playing runs on the keyboard. He stopped and looked up at Finn's approach.

"Hey, boss." Finn sighed. He was going to kill Puck someday, he really was. It wasn't even worth it anymore to try and get them to stop. Puck wouldn't and they all followed his lead. _Finn's Place_ was a nice little gin joint; a place where people could relax and forget about their cares for a while. Puck worked security and made sure that fights didn't break out. Sam played piano and made sure that everyone stayed mellow and happy. Mike was behind the bar pouring drinks, and Finn watched it all from his table. If only he could convince his staff to do what they were told.

"Sam, I'm going to need you to play tonight."

"Sure thing, boss. I'm going to have some talent come in, if it's okay with you boss. It's just for tonight." Finn nodded, slightly distracted.

"Is it going to be that singer you had in before?"

"Quinn? Nah, she's got another job at a different club. Girls like her don't just wait around." Sam gave a meaningful look in Finn's direction, which Finn completely ignored. He wasn't sure how he felt about the beautiful blond. There was something there, yes. A spark, a connection between them, he thought. What did that mean, exactly? He knew he couldn't be with Rachel. Did that mean he should explore a relationship with Quinn?

"That's nice." Sam rolled his eyes. Honestly, sometimes he wondered if the boss' deck was a few cards short.

"Anyway, boss, I gotta work on these arrangements. I think you'll like it though." Sam knew which songs made the boss stop dead cold. Certain songs would play on the radio and it was like he was turned to stone. Or he'd hurry into the backroom and not come out until they were done. Sometimes, he'd come back out and his eyes would be red like he'd been crying or something. Sam knew everyone at _Finn's Place_ had some kind of sad story, and he would have given quite a bit to learn what Finn's was. He figured it involved a dame. They always did, didn't they?

It was evening, and Finn was in the back, in his office. He was going over the books when he heard her singing. Damn! He thought he made it clear that they were **not** allowed to turn on the radio. He stormed out of the back to rip everyone a new one, and stopped cold. It was her. Here. _Of all the gin joints in all the world, why'd she have to walk into mine,_ He wondered desperately. He kept moving forward, his eyes were drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. It was _her_. She was even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. When she saw him, she broke off and stopped singing. Sam looked up at her in confusion. She stood there in the middle of the stage, her chocolate eyes huge in her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at him across the room. Then she flew across the room and into his arms, where she slammed into him so hard he almost fell over. He had to put his arms around her so that he didn't lose his balance. She felt like heaven. Her scent filled his nostrils. Her warm, soft body filled his arms. It was the dream he'd had ten thousand times; it was better than any dream he'd ever had.

"Oh, God, Oh Finn!" She kept chanting, over and over like a mantra. She pulled his face down to hers and rained kisses on him. He didn't remember when he started kissing her back, but then she was bent over his arm and his lips were pressed firmly against hers. When they both came up for air, he realized that the entire bar was staring at them. Finn felt himself going red. He looked desperately at Sam who began to play something on the piano. Finn dragged Rachel to his office.

"Okay, what are you doing here?" Finn demanded as soon as they were in his office.

"What am I doing here?" Rachel started to laugh hysterically. "I guess I missed you more than you missed me."

"No, damnit! I mean, what are you doing in Vichy-controlled Morocco? Do you have a death wish or something?" She shrugged.

"No. I don't want to die, but I wanted to see you."

"How did you know about me?"

"Sam. He and Santana, do you remember her? They dated briefly and so he knew Kurt, Mercedes and me. He wrote to me when they started to play me on the radio. He told me how much my singing touched his boss. I think we must have been corresponding for a while before I found out who his 'boss' was. Kurt had to tie me to a chair to keep me from heading out all by myself." Finn's heart contracted in his chest.

"Is Kurt with you?"

"Yes. He stayed at the hotel, though. He wanted to make some arrangements for our return." She wasn't planning on staying. He was glad. Really he was. Why did his heart ache then? She was looking at him with those eyes. They looked so sad, so hurt. He started to babble.

"I did miss you. Everyday I missed you…so much. I looked for you. I didn't know where to start, but I looked everywhere. No one knew where you'd gone. You don't know how many nights I wondered if…if you'd been captured." He swallowed. Rachel shook her head with a sad smile.

"Do you remember Henri?" Finn nodded. Kurt's boyfriend in Paris—he'd been loaded, and he adored Kurt. "Turns out he was actually the son of a very highly placed personage. Henri smuggled us to Calais and we took the ferry to England. He sent us with a letter of credit to his London solicitors. Henri's family owned a small townhouse in London, and Henri granted us free use of it until further notice. He saved us. Kurt, Mercedes and I all owe him our lives."

"I'm so glad. I was so worried about you all." Finn was glad. He was grateful to Henri for being there, and being able to protect those that mattered to him.

"I agreed to sing after Pearl Harbor. I thought maybe you'd be one of the boys I was singing to. Every song I sing, I pretend I'm singing to you," she confided shyly. He knew. He'd always known that.

"Rachel, why are you here?" She stared at her hands in her lap. Then she looked at him with what he always called in his mind her determined face.

"I came to see you. I love you, Finn Hudson. Once I knew where you were, nothing could keep me from your side." He could feel the unspoken accusation. Why hadn't he hunted her down, once he knew she was alive? Why had he stayed away? Didn't he love her?

"I love you, too, Rachel." She could sense the unspoken 'but'. It hung there between them. She stared at him. He could tell she was hurt and confused, but he didn't know how to explain his decisions. How could he make her see what they both had to do, what they both had to sacrifice for the greater good? He had never been one of those witty guys, who were clever with the words.

She stood up then, and he let her walk out of the office. He didn't try to stop her. He didn't call out, and have her come back. He just sat there and stared at the wall. Puck found him there later.

"Wow, boss." He placed a neat gin in a tumbler on the desk in front of Finn. Normally, Finn never drank while the bar was operating; he thought it was too dangerous to not be fully functioning. Tonight, he didn't care; he knocked it back and held out the glass to be refilled. Puck poured him a double and left the bottle on the desk. He awkwardly patted Finn on the shoulder and left him alone.

The next day, Sam was there bright and early. He'd brought Kurt with him.

"Finn." Kurt's tone was cold and clipped. He glared at Finn from across the piano. "She cried all night long, you know."

Sam looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Look, boss, I didn't realize you actually **knew** Rachel. I just thought you really liked her singing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was writing to her. I didn't think it would hurt anything." Finn shook his head.

"No, Sam, don't worry about it. Look, Kurt, can we talk in my office?" Kurt sniffed. Finn turned and walked to his office and Kurt followed him.

"How could you treat her like this? Do you know how many nights she's cried for you? Do you know how often she's searched for you? She looks at every face in every crowd. Hospitals are the worst. Every wounded soldier is you, Finn. She sings for every boy that asks in the damn hospitals. She sits with them, and holds them. She writes letters home for them. She kisses them. And every time, it's you, you bastard." Kurt spat the last part out.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I don't want to hurt her. I love her so much." His voice broke and he swallowed. "But don't you get it? Look at who she is now, she's a star! Look at everything she does for the war effort! She is so important. She helps every soldier she sings to; even the ones who just hear her on the radio. She needs to keep doing what she's doing. If I stop her from doing what she needs to do—then I might as well go fight for the damn Nazis. She's not mine, Kurt. She doesn't belong to us anymore. She belongs to them, to the world." Finn was openly crying now. He didn't care if Kurt saw. Maybe he would understand everything Finn was trying to say, and failing miserably to explain properly.

Kurt just looked at him. He sat there for several minutes while Finn tried to stop crying. Finally, he had himself under control. When Kurt spoke his voice was quiet and calm.

"You've obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this, about her."

"Yeah."

"I won't tell you what a complete idiot I think you are because I think I understand what you're trying to do. You want to sacrifice your chance at happiness because you think Rachel is crucial to the war effort? You don't think you're worthy of her anymore because she's a star and you run a bar? Is that right?" Finn nodded. Amazement flashed across Kurt's features.

"Yeah."

"You are going to have to explain all of this to Rachel yourself. I don't think she would believe me. I don't know if she'll believe you."

"Well, I can go to your hotel with you."

"That would probably be best. Come along, Finn."

Rachel was curled up in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow. Her dark, silky hair was spread out around her. Her cheeks were tear-stained. Kurt sighed.

"You know, it kills me to see her like this. I like her better when she's feisty and bitchy. I know how to deal with that." Finn went and stood by the bed. He wasn't sure what to do, what it was okay for him to do. He sat down on the bed next to her and began to stroke her hair. She shifted in her sleep and sighed, "Finn." Even when she was asleep she knew whether or not he was there.

"Rachel." Her eyes fluttered open. She saw his face and a beatific smile curved her generous mouth. Then she woke up further, and confusion drew her brows together.

"Finn? What are you doing here?"

"Kurt brought me to explain myself." She looked at Kurt and then at Finn.

"Okay." He hated to see her eyes grow veiled and guarded. He hated that he was so awkward when it came to explaining what he felt in his heart. He wished he were eloquent, witty, charming, but he knew he was none of those things. He sighed heavily, and put his face in his hands.

"I'll leave you two alone to talk. I'll be back in a couple hours." Kurt glared at Finn's lowered head. He kissed the top of Rachel's head and left.

"You don't understand how hard this is for me." Finn's voice was strained with all of the emotion he was trying to keep in check. Rachel shook her head.

"You don't think this is difficult for me?"

"I didn't mean that. I meant. Oh, Rach, I don't know what to say or how to say it."

"Then don't say anything," she whispered against his ear. He turned and his lips unerringly found hers. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. It might possibly be the stupidest possible thing he'd ever done in his life, but he couldn't think straight with the scent of jasmine in his nostrils and silky, dark hair tangled in his fingers.

She was curled against his side, with her head on his chest and her hair spread out over him. He had missed her so much. He'd felt like only part of a person for so long. There had been that ache in his heart—the missing piece of his heart that she carried with her wherever she went. Laying there in bed with her, his heart didn't hurt anymore. His hand made lazy circles on her hip. He wanted to stay like this forever.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," her lips moved against the skin of his chest. A shudder went down his spine. It never ceased to amaze him how well they were attuned to one another.

"Rachel, I…" God, those eyes; they were like brown velvet, like really good French chocolate. She sat up and looked down at him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

"Finn, I know you love me. You know I love you. We should be together. We belong together."

"Rachel, listen to me. You know those plays and things you used to take me to in Paris?" She nodded, frowning slightly. She couldn't see where this was going, but she felt wary all of a sudden.

"Yes."

"Well they love each other, but they rarely get to be together. Most of the time one or both of them ends up dead."

"That's because epic love is always beautifully tragic and tortured. Look at Tristan and Isolde. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong did." Finn nodded.

"Exactly. Sometimes even love isn't enough." Rachel sat there chewing on her bottom lip, and thinking. Then she cocked her head at Finn.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Finn sat up, and pulled Rachel into his lap. She pulled back slightly so that she could look into his eyes.

"I'm trying to say that nothing in this world is guaranteed. Especially now. You know what's going on. You've seen more of it than I have." Rachel nodded, her eyes shining with tears.

"I…I have. I've seen so many things. Those boys," she whispered.

"Those boys," he agreed.

"God, Finn, I can't do this. I can't find you only to lose you." He knew that she also hated the lack of control she had over the whole situation.

"Well, I've done a lot thinking, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Kurt where you belong.  
**"**But, Finn, no, I... I..."  
"Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp."  
"You're saying this only to make me go."  
"I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know where you belong. You're a part of this great work, the thing that keeps all those boys going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not on it, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.  
"But what about us?"  
"We'll always have Paris."  
"I said I would never leave you."  
"And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Rachel, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that." Rachel lowers her head and begins to cry.  
"Now, now...," Finn gently places his hand under her chin and raises it so their eyes meet, "Here's looking at you kid."


	7. Waiting

The Hospital- Waiting

Rachel haunted the waiting room, but avoided Kurt and his parents. At first, Kurt's feelings were hurt—he couldn't figure out why his friend, and slumber party buddy was ditching him. Finally, something clicked inside his head and he hunted her down for a confrontation.

"You don't think you deserve to be here, do you?" She stared at him, her eyes huge in her face. She looked like hell. Her cheeks were sunken, her nails looked like wild animals had nibbled on them, her hair was limp. She obviously hadn't kept up on her beauty regimen at all.

"I…I don't want to upset him." Kurt realized that she wouldn't say his name. He thought back over the past few days and realized she hadn't once said his name; "he" or "him", but never Finn.

"Rachel, Finn may be a lot of things, but I don't think he's a complete and utter bastard." Rachel flinched when Kurt said his name.

"What? I…"

"Honey, Finn would be glad to know you came. I think it would hurt his feelings more to find out you never visited him."

"I did once. I sat with Quinn." Kurt snorted, and Rachel glared at him.

"Yeah. You refused to look at him the whole time, and wouldn't speak. How was he supposed to know you were there? Rachel, come on. You need to do this. Finn needs you to do this." Kurt practically dragged her to Finn's room. He held her hand and sat there with her for what felt like forever in silence.

"You know, I used to fantasize about what song I would sing to him if he were in a coma." She whispered. "I actually told him that." Kurt had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. This girl took drama to a whole other stratosphere. First, she tells him she fantasizes about her own funeral. Now she fantasizes about his brother in a coma. Seriously?

"Um, what song did you pick?"

"It doesn't matter. None of them are right. It was a horrible idea. What's wrong with me, Kurt? What's wrong with me that I would _fantasize_ about that? Like it was a game? When he's…when he's…" she gestured wildly to Finn, laying still and silent in his hospital bed, and started to sob quietly.

"Oh, Rachel. Honey. You never actually thought it would _happen_." He sighed and rubbed her back in small strokes. He couldn't watch her cry—it just broke his heart—so he turned to look at Finn, and his hand stilled. Finn was _stirring._ When Rachel felt Kurt's hand suddenly go still she looked up to see Finn turn his head and open his eyes.

"Rachel? Don't cry, please." He whispered, his voice hoarse. He stretched a hand toward her. She grabbed his large hand in her two small ones and clutched it to her chest.

"Oh Finn! You came back!" He blinked at her.

"Of course, I did. I promised you I would come back." Rachel looked at Kurt who shook his head in confusion.

"Maybe I should get the doctor?" Rachel stood and gently laid Finn's arm on his chest. She kissed him on the cheek, and quickly left the room trying desperately to muffle her sobs and failing miserably. Kurt sighed.

"You know, it kills me to see her like this. I like her better when she's feisty and bitchy. I know how to deal with that." Finn gave a wheezing laugh.

"I know." Kurt turned and looked at his brother. He gripped his hand fiercely and looked into those hazel eyes. His own eyes shone with emotion.

"If you _ever_ do that again, I will kick your butt myself!" Then he hugged Finn as tightly as he could. Finn's arms slowly came around Kurt's shaking shoulders and he hugged him back.

"Okay."


	8. Things Have Not Returned to Normal

_Things are not quite back to normal. Finn's returned to school after his coma, but there seem to be some strange side effects that no one can explain._

Rachel was sitting in the library studying for a math test with Mercedes when their phones both started to vibrate. They looked at each other, and then at their phones. Kurt. _Something's wrong with Finn! Call me ASAP!_ Rachel was out in the hall punching Kurt on speed dial so fast it made Mercedes head spin.

"What do you mean, something is wrong with him?" She demanded.

"Well, I have taken it upon myself to introduce some culture in my brother's life. Every Thursday night we do Culture Night. I pick a couple movies and make him watch them. I even quiz him after to make sure he paid attention."

"You do what?" Mercedes rolled her eyes and started muttering under her breath.

"You quiz him?" Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. "And he goes for that?"

"Well, he was sleeping through Culture Night, which is totally cheating. I had to do something!" Mercedes and Rachel shared a look. What on earth was going on over at the Hudson/Hummel house?

"Anyway, there is a problem?" Mercedes tried to move the conversation along.

"Yes! The other night, I picked "The Arch of Triumph" which has this song I adore called "J'attendrai". Finn sobbed like a baby through the _whole_ movie and he _sang along_ to the song. He knew every single word!"

"Uh-huh." Mercedes looks really confused. Rachel looks bewildered.

"But, Kurt, Finn can't speak French. He's barely passing Spanish."

"I know that! That's what's so weird. He kept patting my hand and telling me that it was so great I had Henri to take care of me, and he was so grateful that you and Mercedes were safe. I don't know anyone named Henri!"

"What the hell?" Mercedes looked at Rachel who suddenly got a panicked expression.

"Omigod, Kurt! What if it's from the coma? What if he's," she whispered into the phone, "brain damaged?" Mercedes snorted and Rachel glared at her.

"No! He's not stupid. It's like he got smarter. He knows all this weird stuff he shouldn't know." Kurt sounded exasperated with Rachel.

"Well, what should we do?" Mercedes asked him.

"I don't know. Just, please, keep an eye on him? And Rachel, for god's sake please don't sing _anything_ WWII era in glee." Rachel huffed.

"I wasn't planning on it!"

"Well, you never know, and I want to plan for contingencies."


End file.
